


Clues

by Freakierthanthou



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Identity Porn, M/M, matt you stupid avocado
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freakierthanthou/pseuds/Freakierthanthou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy gives the Devil a chance to explain himself, and as usual, both he and Matt get in over their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the kink meme: 
> 
> You know what I am dying to see? A fic where Daredevil and Foggy hook-up somehow (maybe Foggy is in trouble and Daredevil rescues him and the it goes from there?). 
> 
> Their relationship goes on for a while until one night, Foggy tells Daredevil that they can't be together anymore because he(Foggy) is in love with someone else and that someone else is his best friend, Matt, who is he pretty sure doesn't feel the same way. 
> 
> TLDR: Basically, Daredevil and Foggy hook-up. Foggy breaks up with Daredevil because he is love with Matt. Daredevil is Matt and Matt is screaming on the inside.
> 
> (And the ensuing comment thread, which you can read here: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/2760.html?thread=4610760#cmt4610760.)

Really, Foggy should have known better than to follow the guy. But he was sure he had seen him before, and with the way the tenement case had ended- well, he wasn’t going to take any chances. So yeah, he followed him. 

Now, let it be known that Foggy Nelson was not a super spy. He was not, truth be told, even a mediocre spy. In fact, he wasn’t actually a spy at all, which did help soothe his ego slightly when the guy he was following strolled happily into a dead-end alley and waited for Foggy like a cat that had just caught a mouse in its trap. Or something. Metaphors were another area where Foggy claimed no expertise. 

Foggy, to his credit, did manage to get one good punch in. The other guy, however, got three and Foggy was on the ground, cradling a nose he was sure was broken and preparing himself to get kicked in the ribs when suddenly he heard sounds of an unholy beatdown from somewhere to his right. Even more surprisingly, he wasn’t the one getting beat. 

He looked up cautiously, just in time to see his assailant go flying into a wall. He hit the bricks with a thud and slumped down, unmoving. 

The man who had thrown him turned to Foggy then, and Foggy knew instantly who it was. The Man in the Mask. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Or, as he was commonly referred to, Him. 

“Are you alright?” the Man in the Mask said. 

Foggy coughed slightly, mostly to clear his throat, but he was positive he tasted blood as well. The Devil took a step towards him, and Foggy was scrambling backwards before he was even aware of what he was doing. 

He stopped. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Tell that to the people you blew up,” Foggy spat. “Asshole.” 

The Mask was a piece of black cloth, maybe a ski cap, pulled low over his eyes and down to the tip of his nose. Even with most of his face hidden, Foggy was fairly certain he could see the man wince. 

“I didn’t do that,” the Devil said. “I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve never killed anyone.” 

Foggy sat up, cautiously. When the man didn’t move towards him again, he relaxed slightly. 

“Why should I believe you?” he asked. 

The Devil shook his head. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said. “But I’m telling the truth. And I did just save your life.” 

“I had it handled,” Foggy said. 

The Man in the Mask was kind enough not to comment on how clearly he had not. 

“I hope you’ll believe me,” he said instead, and he sounded sad, like he didn’t really believe that Foggy would. 

The words were out before Foggy could think. “Convince me.” 

There was a moment of hesitation, and there were no facial expressions to tell from, but his body language didn’t lie, the way he was leaning slightly towards Foggy- the way he didn’t turn around and leave. 

“I have work to do.”

“So do I,” Foggy said. He patted the ground next to him. “This is all against my better judgment, mind you, but as a friend recently reminded me, everyone deserves a fair trial. Even weird masked vigilantes. So pull up a patch of concrete and tell me your side of the story.” 

And he did. 

*

Of course, Foggy was too smart to take the Devil of Hells Kitchen at his word. He did some investigating on his own. And okay, he knew from Karen that there was some shady stuff going on with her former employer, but this was extra shady, with a side of sketchy, and a whole heaping topping of why the fuck am I getting myself into this. 

He really should have known better. 

The second time, the guy had a knife, and the Devil got between them. He took it in the side, Foggy was almost sure, but he barely even flinched before knocking the jerk down and yelling at Foggy to run. Naturally, Foggy ran. 

The Man in the Mask was right behind him soon after, the backup with guns apparently enough to send him out of the way as well. But he didn’t take off, there were no backflips of doom, just ragged breathing behind Foggy and occasionally a hand on his back directing him where to go. 

Finally they stopped, several blocks away from where they had started, and Foggy took a moment to catch his breath, trying to hide how much it felt like his lungs were collapsing and his legs may or may not exist. 

“Are you alright?” the man asked. 

Foggy nodded. “Jesus, man, are you? Because I’m pretty sure you took a knife in the side there. What are you, some sort of robot dude, did that even hurt you?” 

It seemed like the man only then remembered that he had been injured, and he tugged his black shirt up slightly. Foggy could see the cut, oozing sluggishly, still fresh and new. 

“No, that-“ the Devil laughed “That definitely hurt. But I’ll be fine.” 

“Like hell you will,” Foggy grumbled. He pulled off his scarf roughly and pressed it up against the wound.

“It’ll get dirty,” the Devil protested. 

Foggy slapped his hands away from where they would remove the scarf. “Are you crazy, dude? You’re bleeding, you think I care?” 

He couldn’t see the man’s face, but his hesitation spoke volumes enough. “What’s your name?” he asked finally. 

“Nelson,” Foggy said. 

The mask shifted with something that might have been raising eyebrows. “Nelson?” 

“You got a problem with that?” 

“No, it’s just- you don’t look like a Nelson.” 

“What do I look like, then?” Foggy knew he was being unnecessarily challenging, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment. 

The man seemed to consider it for a moment. “James,” he said finally. 

“That’s my middle name.” No one had ever told him he looked like a James before, but Foggy supposed it wasn’t too uncommon of a name. 

“Nelson James what?” the man asked. 

And oh hell no, Foggy wasn’t getting into this with him. “Smith,” he said. “You want my DOB so you can run a background check?” 

“I already took fingerprints off the alley where we first met,” the Devil retorted. “Why are you helping me, anyway? You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Foggy said. “Besides, I could say the same for you.” 

“That’s different,” the Man in the Mask said. “This is my job.” 

Foggy laughed. “No, my friend, a job is something you apply for and send in a resume. Then you have an annoying boss who won’t pay you overtime for the work you do, but you get a paycheck and benefits. Tell me, how’s the health insurance for the job of masked vigilante these days?” 

The Devil’s laughter sounded like a wheeze. “It’s shit,” he said. 

“That sucks. You should find a better job.”

He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “This is- this is what I was born to do. And I think I’m the only one who can do it. This city needs me, and I’m not about to let it down.” 

And oh, wasn’t that just the most idealistic bullshit ever, and Foggy couldn’t help but lean forward just a little bit and maybe it was the adrenaline maybe it was the scruff maybe it was the bullshit and smash their lips together. 

“Fo- fuck,” and for a moment, Foggy had the triumph of knowing that he had made the Man in the Mask lose his words just for a second. “What was that for?” 

“For being an idiot,” Foggy said. 

Those lips, all he could see of the man’s face, twitched ever so slightly. “I don’t think you should be encouraging that.” 

“For once, common sense out of you,” Foggy teased. “Maybe I should reward that.” 

The Devil swallowed hard. “You-“ he stopped short. But Foggy had already dropped to his knees, feeling the pavement of the dirty alleyway through his pants, and leaned his head gently against the the Man in the Mask’s hip. He had no idea what he was doing, he definitely hadn’t left his house today with the intention of sucking off a vigilante in the streets, but this was still the hottest thing that had ever happened to him, and barely a strip of skin was showing. 

“You don’t have to do this,” the man whispered. 

Foggy had a clear, eloquent response to that, but all that came out of his mouth was “Please.” The Devil made a soft noise of losing all of his air. “Please, please-“

“Alright.” For someone watching another man kneeling in an alley begging for his cock, the Devil’s voice was almost reverent. He passed a soft hand over Foggy’s hair, and it was as gentle as if he was touching some sort of a precious gem or a fragile bunny rabbit or- Foggy lost his train of thought, because the man had removed his other hand and was pulling himself out of his pants, rapid and clumsy and oh- already so hard. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Foggy breathed. “You’re beautiful.” 

“I’m fairly certain that’s blasphemy,” the Devil said in an amused tone. “Could be bad for you.” 

“The only thing that will be bad for me is not having your gorgeous cock in my mouth right now,” Foggy said.

He thought he heard the man make another soft noise, but he was too busy already wrapping his lips around the head and sucking gently.

The noises that man made, Foggy wished he could have bottled them up and kept them in a jar by his bedside to listen to for the rest of his life. He put his best work into it, desperate to hear those noises continue. And they did. God, even when Foggy could feel his balls twitch and the man jerked him away, pulled him up and pressed him into another kiss, even as they finished rubbing up against each other, the air was filled with soft little breathy noises and gentle gasps that took his mind for a ride and ran away with it. 

Foggy was still muttering nonsense, begging desperately, even as he rutted agains the Man in the Mask until they both came. And oh, this was a Bad Idea. This had been a bad idea before, to even give him the benefit of the doubt, but now to rub one off against him in a dark alley- yeah, this was new levels of Bad. 

But the Devil held him up, even as he sagged boneless as a jellyfish against the wall. And the Devil’s stubble was rough but his lips were gentle as he pressed them against Foggy’s cheek. He was surrounded in warm and the Devil was holding him and brushing his hand gently through his hair and Foggy couldn’t bring himself to regret this.


	2. Worse Choices

Matt didn’t touch himself to the memory. He couldn’t- wouldn’t. He didn’t touch Foggy either, not even the casual friendly touches they were so used to. That was nothing when he had felt Foggy come apart under his hands, had felt how soft his hair was when he was trembling and on his knees beneath him. 

But this didn’t stop him from going back. He followed Foggy, because he knew that Foggy wouldn’t stop, that he would endanger himself, and as much as he had crossed every line he’d ever created for himself, he couldn’t let this happen, not to Foggy. 

And Foggy, as always, didn’t know when to quit. He didn’t know when to quit and he wouldn’t stop, not just the research but what came after too. Even when there was nothing after him, the one night he didn’t almost get himself killed, Matt still caught up to him and Foggy still pressed up against him, already hard and wanting, and kissed him within an inch of his life. 

They rarely talked much beyond some brief banter and pleasantries. It didn’t take any flirtation, any bullshit. Foggy just melted under him, spreading his legs and tilting his head back and groaning like this was all he’d ever wanted. 

And Matt couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not with the way Foggy begged him every time, not with the soft whines that came out of his mouth. It was torture. 

It had been the first week of college when Foggy came out to him, forced casualness and a carefully-researched comment about how to go to residence life and get a room change if necessary. And of course, Matt hadn’t cared, hadn’t changed rooms, but he’d been only barely coming to terms with it himself, and he hadn’t said the honest “me too”. 

It hurt to have feelings for a straight boy, Matt had been there before. But it hurt even worse when you knew that he swung in your direction and then veered sharply off towards someone else. 

Towards the devil, apparently, the man in the mask. 

Matt knew it was ridiculous, completely irrational, to be jealous of himself. But it was the man in the mask who got to hear Foggy’s moans and whimpers, who got to touch him and feel him and breathe him in. But Foggy would never want Matt to see this, would hide it away from him with the deep mineral scent of the makeup he borrowed to cover the marks Matt left on him. 

And even worse, he hated how much he loved it, loved being the only person who knew this about Foggy, who knew about this secret relationship. Even if he could never tell Foggy that he knew. 

Fuck, Foggy would hate him if he ever found out. That Matt was putting on a disguise every night to go out and fuck him in alleyways and behind abandoned buildings. As much as he tried, there was no way for Matt to justify this, even to himself. Foggy would kill him if he ever found out, and Matt couldn’t even bring himself to care. 

But every time Matt tried to stop, Foggy was there, reeling him back in. His solidity, his warmth, they were intoxicating, and for all their rough fumblings and dirty secrets, Matt really just wanted to drag Foggy into him and breathe in his scent, feel him and hold him and keep him. 

He couldn’t have that, of course. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to even think about it. But still, he let it continue. 

They had a close call once or twice. Foggy tried to bite a bruise into his neck, but Matt deflected him just in time. It felt tender (red, as Foggy had described similar marks before, back in college) all night, but the soreness was gone in the morning, and no one commented on it. 

Another time, Foggy ran his fingers gently over a scrape on his wrist, and Matt was almost positive that he saw it the next morning- heard his heart skip a beat before settling into its normal rhythm. 

Shortly after that, playful in the afterglow, Foggy ran gentle fingers over the mask and asked curiously “How can you see with that thing over your face?” 

Matt kissed him as a distraction and tried not to feel so dirty. 

*

“I want you to fuck me,” Foggy said one night, shortly after Matt had distracted him with the kiss. 

Matt nearly tripped over his own feet. “Why?” he blurted.

He could hear a rustle of wind as Foggy tilted his head. “Because it feels good?” he asked. “I mean, I can fuck you if you’d prefer. I’m not one to subscribe too hardline notions of top/bottom dynamics.”

When Matt didn’t answer, his voice got softer. “We also don’t have to,” he added. “Obviously. But if you want to, I’d really, really, like to ride you.” 

Matt choked. “You can’t just-“ he stopped. Play the part, he reminded himself. Foggy wanted to fuck the mysterious vigilante who saved his life, not his dorky, awkward best friend. “I don’t exactly carry condoms around with me when I’m out punching people at night.”

“No?” Foggy’s voice was teasing. “Why, none of your dozens of other lovers have asked you to?”

“There are no other lovers,” Matt said firmly, and it may have been out of character, but Foggy had to know. “There aren’t,” he said. “Just you.”

He could hear Foggy’s heartbeat quicken, and a soft sigh of breath. “Even if fucking’s off the table,” he said. “I’d still like to do you.”

Matt smiled faintly. (Foggy hadn’t said that he was the only one, but he didn’t have the right to be jealous over something like that.) “Of course,” he said. “Now come here.” 

He didn’t see Foggy the next night. He was in the office, but distracted and hardly looked in Matt’s direction. The night after, he was missing again, and Matt breathed deep and listened for his heartbeat. He would know that sound from anywhere in the city.

But Foggy was simply staying in his apartment, moving around a little bit like normal but showing no signs of leaving. Matt spend the night distracted and off his game and went home tired and unfulfilled. 

Foggy still seemed distant at work, and Matt couldn’t help but listen to his breathing and wishing he could read his mind. That night, though, Matt found him on the streets, waiting for him outside the alleyway where they’d first- well, not where they’d first met, but as far as Foggy was concerned…

“I was hoping you’d be here,” Foggy said. His heartbeat was going wild. 

“What do you need?” Matt asked. He stepped closer, but stopped when Foggy’s breathing hitched. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Foggy blurted. 

Matt could hear the blood shifting, but he’d never wished more that he could see Foggy’s face. He choked back Foggy's name, but couldn't quite bring himself to call him Nelson like they were strangers.

“What happened?

Foggy sighed. “Things just changed,” he said. “I found-“ he stopped. 

“Someone else?” Matt asked. 

Foggy shifted- putting his hands in his pockets? “Well, I guess that answers the question of if you’re stalking me in my daily life. If you’d seen me, you’d know.” 

Matt felt a pang. Was Foggy dating someone and he hadn’t even realized? Was the lying vigilante he fucked in alleyways a better friend than his partner? 

He thought of the people Foggy knew, the people he spent his day with. He’d know if it was Karen, they spent too much time together. Was there anyone else? 

“I’ve seen you around,” he said, not even having to fake the raspiness of his voice. “Is it that cute lawyer?” Marci was smart, she was beautiful from what people said and how their hearts raced around her, and she was honest with Foggy. 

“Am I that obvious?” Foggy asked. 

Matt shrugged, not sure how to answer that one. 

“Well, it’s kind of a moot point anyway,” Foggy said. “He doesn’t have feelings for me anyway, I’d know if he did.” 

“Who?” 

Foggy didn’t seem to notice the hitch in his voice, the way his mind was scrambling to come up with an answer. Who could Foggy be referring to?

“I mean, it’s been years,” he continued. “If he felt something for me, he’d have said something by now. But I just- every time I look at you, I see him, you know?” 

A part of Matt couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pleasure at the thought of his rival being dethroned like this- but the devil wasn’t his rival, as much as it felt like it sometimes. 

Foggy continued without pause. “I mean, he’s my best friend, my partner, and I’m so damn in love with him. I should probably give it up, but I just can’t.” He sighed. A brief movement to touch the man in the mask, and then he moved back, giving up before they’d made contact. “I’ve been using you to try to get over him,” he said. “And that’s not fair.” 

He turned to leave, hands in his pockets, but stopped before he disappeared into the night. 

“You’re a great guy, dude. I don’t want you to think this is your fault. You’re just- you’re not Matt.” 

And then he was gone.


	3. Good Conclusions

Foggy came in a little late for work the next day, giving himself extra time for the others to get settled before he wandered in. Karen took one look at hime and made a sympathetic noise. 

“Jeez, Foggy, you look awful,” she said. 

“Pleasant as always Karen,” he said. “Is there coffee, or just sludge?” 

She grabbed her purse, huffing and frowning. “I’ll get you some from the cafe downstairs,” she said. “Is it too much to ask what happened?” 

Foggy waved his hand at her impatiently. “It’s nothing, just a breakup and a little too much to drink. I’ll be fine. You’re a star, Karen.” 

Matt glanced up from where he was at his desk reading, his head bowed over his fingers in concentration. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” he said. 

Karen wisely closed the door with a click. 

“We weren’t really dating,” Foggy said. “Just messing around.” 

“Who ended it?” 

No one ever said that Matt had tact. 

“I did,” Foggy said. “I don’t know, I just wanted- not sure if it’s more or just something different. It was okay, he took it well, it’s just always rough.” 

“I’m sorry, man.” Few people ever got the full force of Matt’s attention on them. Foggy wondered how they lived without it. “Is there anything I can do?” 

Tell me the fucking truth, Foggy didn’t say, because okay, Matt was waiting, that’s fine. He didn’t have to confess everything to him right away. Just as long as he did it soon. 

“Drinks tonight?” he asked, because he wasn’t above trying to rush things. “Just you and me, my place, shitty booze and bad decisions. Like old times.” 

“Sure, buddy.” Matt’s smile looked forced. “Whatever you need. 

But Matt didn’t try to kiss him that night, no matter how drunk they got and how much Foggy ached remembering the feeling of those deceptively soft hands wrapped around him. Instead, they drank more than they should have and Matt tucked him into bed like a good friend, running a hand over his hair but not a touch more intimate, and left him to sleep. 

*

Foggy let it keep going for three days, and then a week. Matt would tell him when he was ready, he reminded himself. The whole point of this charade was to not rush him, he wasn’t going to break it now just because he was impatient. 

After a week, Matt stopped treating him like glass. Karen had let it go a long time ago and returned to their normal relationship, gentle teasing and friendly support. Matt, on the other hand, he didn’t act like this was any breakup Foggy had been through before. Maybe he was right. 

A part of him insisted that this wasn’t a breakup, that he and the Devil had never been together, not really, and that when this was all over, he’d have Matt the way he was supposed to, and nothing else would come between them. But as they drifted into the second week and Matt still kept quiet, he started to wonder. 

It wasn’t like Matt was avoiding him, not really. But he was vaguely distant, in a way Foggy wouldn’t have noticed if it had been anyone but his best friend there. Like he was respecting boundaries that Foggy hadn’t put up. 

He let it go on for a month before finally he cracked. Matt had, after much cajoling, come over to his apartment after work to perch nervously on the edge of the couch, giving Foggy far too much personal space, and barely sip at his beer. 

“So are you going to ask me out or what?” Foggy snapped. 

Matt looked up. “Excuse me?” 

Okay, maybe that hadn’t gone exactly the way he had planned it to. But still-

“You’re an asshole, Murdock,” he said. “Seriously, I flat out told you to your face that I’ve been in love with you for years, and I may not have super senses or mind reading or whatever the hell you have, but I was fucking there when we screwed, and I know you have at least the tiniest scrap of emotion about me, so why the fuck haven’t you done anything yet?”

Matt was gaping at him, mouth open wide and working uselessly. When he finally spoke it came out as a strangled cry. 

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew!” Now that he had started, Foggy found he couldn’t stop. “I lived with you for years, Matt, you think I don’t know what you look like naked by now? You’ve got a scar on your ass that looks like a Mickey Mouse logo, and I don’t want to even know how that happened. You think because I couldn’t see the top half of your face that I wouldn’t recognize my best friend when we were fucking regularly? You wear glasses every day, I never see your eyes anyway!”

“Oh.” Matt’s voice had gone soft now, and his head was tilted downward, his whole body twisted as if he wanted to curve into himself. “You must hate me,” he said. 

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Right,” he said. “That’s why I begged you to let me ride you and told you that I loved you. Pure hatred, that’s what that is.” 

Matt still wasn’t moving, and he sighed. He slid out of his own seat and knelt down on the floor next to where Matt was perched, putting his hands on his friend’s knees. 

“Ask me out,” he said. 

“Foggy-“ 

But Foggy wasn’t going to let Matt interrupt him, not this time. “Ask me out, Matthew,” he repeated. “Or tell me that I’m wrong and need to get lost. Whatever you want, just ask for it.”

Matt made a choked little cry. “You,” he said, and his voice sounded like breaking. “Foggy, I want you- I need you. Please.” 

“Of course.” Foggy leaned forwards, cupping Matt’s face in his hands. “I’m going to kiss you in a second, but first I need to say something, because if past experience has taught me anything, it’s that once I kiss you, we won’t get much talking done. But I need you to know this, Matthew fucking Murdoch, that I love you, in the mask or out of it, and I’m still kind of pissed that you didn’t tell me and that you’re being stupid, but I’ll get over that and I’ll still love you, and no matter what, I’m always going to be here. Okay?” 

He leaned in, and Matt’s lips were working, breathing out, “I love you too” before he gave in and let himself be kissed.


End file.
